


You Smiled, and Then the Spell Was Cast

by ItsNotEasyBeingQueen



Series: Spellbound [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Magical Halloween fluff, Witch!Kurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 12:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12557704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsNotEasyBeingQueen/pseuds/ItsNotEasyBeingQueen
Summary: Sequel to “Spellbound”:  in which Blaine finds out something about Kurt, Kurt finds out something about Blaine, and you find out something about Santana.





	You Smiled, and Then the Spell Was Cast

**Author's Note:**

> You asked for it – here is the sequel to “Spellbound,” which you should read first to understand this story completely.  It’s a little long, but I didn’t want to break it into two chapters.  My thanks to roxymusicandlayers for her artwork and for her very scientific study regarding a significant plot point.  That’s right – science and magic working together!

The surface of the long wooden reading table at the back of the shop was barely visible underneath the array of books strewn across it.  Kurt sat at the table, a single reading lamp illuminating the text of the ancient volume currently in front of him.  Spellbound was long since closed, the front door locked and the shades drawn, leaving him alone with his work.

Well, almost alone.

_I put a spell on you, because you’re mine_

Kurt sighed quietly and ignored the music playing from the front of the store.  He flinched as the music suddenly changed, the switch punctuated by a scratching sound similar to that of a needle being dragged across a vinyl record.

_That old black magic has me in its spell_  
_That old black magic that you weave so well_

Ordinarily, he wouldn’t mind Sinatra, but he was trying to concentrate.  Another screeching sound assaulted his ears before the next song began.

_Salagadoola, menchika boola, bibbidi-bobbidi-boo!_

“Do you mind!” Kurt yelled, slamming the large book in front of him closed and shoving his chair back hastily.  He stalked to the front of the store, fuming and ready to give the “deejay” a piece of his mind.

“You know, one would think you would be back there helping me instead of wasting your time sitting here being annoying.  Geez, Santana,” he huffed.

Perched on the edge of the counter, Santana regarded him with her signature mixture of amusement and disdain.  “Oh, come on, princess,” she drawled, crossing her long legs and turning her attention to the deep red polish on her perfectly manicured fingernails.  “You’re no fun anymore.”

“Well, _one_ of us has to be serious about this,” he muttered, closing the distance between them and hopping up on the counter next to her.  He snatched his phone – the source of the music she’d been playing – from the desk, slipping it back into his pocket from which it had not-so-mysteriously disappeared.  “First, none of those songs are even _on_ my playlist.  Second, there’s no need for that scratchy sound.  Music is digital now, you know,” he snapped.  He couldn’t understand why the witch beside him was wasting her time by engaging in parlor tricks to play music punctuated by irritating sound effects while he was trying to work.

Thinking about his work reminded him of exactly _what_ his work entailed.  His anger dissipated and was replaced by a more somber attitude.  “I just want to fix this, and I’m afraid I won’t be able to do it,” he confessed quietly.

“You’ve gotten me this far, so you can’t be completely hopeless,” she quipped.

Kurt turned his head to face her, still serious.  “Yeah, you’re here…for about another hour and a half,” he added, glancing at the clock and calculating the time remaining until the spell he cast would be broken.  “Then it’s back to square one.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” she replied, licking the back of her hand lightly before catching herself.  “Seriously, I have _got_ to stop doing that,” she grumbled under her breath in disgust.

Kurt giggled despite himself, quickly apologizing when he was on the receiving end of Santana’s glare.  “Look, I promised you I’d figure this out, and I will.  I give you my word,” he said sincerely, holding a hand over his heart and placing his other atop Santana’s where it rested on the counter between them.

“I believe you, Kurt.  I know I don’t say this often enough, and if you ever bring it up again I’ll deny it, but thank you.  There aren’t many who would do what you’re doing.  I mean, it’s not your fault I crossed the wrong witch and got myself cursed.  You stuck with me, took me in when I became a…a cat, of all the damn things.”  She paused, and Kurt squeezed her hand.  “No one else – _no one_ – would have cared enough to do that, let alone to try to reverse the spell.  I’m just lucky,” she looked up from their joined hands to look Kurt in the eye, “that I’ve got the best damn witch in the world on my side.”

A moment passed between them, unshed tears ignored and emotional smiles exchanged.  “Well,” Kurt said brusquely, his voice a little rough, “the best damn witch in the world should get back to his research,” he finished, hopping off the counter and returning to his table.  “I’ve gotten a new shipment of books in from Europe, and there might be something in there to help.”

Santana nodded and gracefully slipped off the counter, following Kurt to the back of the store.  Her stiletto heels clicked along the hardwood floors.  “Your taste is improving,” she commented, smoothing out the red dress that hugged her curves. 

“You’re welcome.  I thought you’d like it when I saw it in this month’s Vogue.  It beats the first time we tried this,” he called back, shuddering slightly.

Santana had been cursed decades ago after an altercation with a particularly nasty – and very powerful – fellow witch.  She’d been turned instantly into a black cat, which was her nemesis’ idea of a commentary on Santana’s nature, apparently.  Since then, Kurt had been hunting for a way to undo the curse and return Santana to her original form.  He’d been completely unsuccessful for years, but had kept Santana with him, promising to help her.  Late one night, trying a new incantation, he’d been ecstatic when the black cat suddenly transformed into the familiar shape of his friend.  Unfortunately, her shape was stark naked.

They’d both been scarred by that experience. 

Mental trauma aside, while the transformation had been a success, it was only temporary.  The spell Kurt cast was strong, but it wasn’t powerful enough in comparison to the original curse to last more than a few hours.  His next task was to make the reversal permanent.  In the interim, he had at least figured out a way for Santana to make her occasional grand reappearance in clothing, thank goodness.

“What I can’t figure out,” Santana began, circling around behind Kurt as he resumed poring over the books at the table, “is why you’re spending your time with these musty old books when you could be getting your hands on some very fine mortal man butt.”

“Santana!” Kurt squeaked, scandalized. 

“Oh, like I’m wrong.” She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned in, speaking lowly into his ear.  “Like you don’t want to take him back to your place, pin him to the mattress with an immobility spell, and have your wicked way with him?”

Kurt shrugged her off, ignoring her smug laughter.  “You really do have your mind in the gutter, you know that?” he retorted, huffing as he angrily flipped the time-worn page of an ancient tome.

“All right, all right, grandma.  I’ll keep it PG-13 for you.  Seriously, you are such a bore.”  She returned to the other side of the table, flopping into a chair across from Kurt and starting to mindlessly flip through another book without actually reading it.  “Answer me this, then.  Why aren’t you having a lovely dinner date with the very dapper little dwarf professor, hmm?  I mean, it’s clear that he’s into you.”

“No he’s not,” Kurt responded weakly.

“Oh, come on.  Ever since his pert, preppy behind pranced in a couple of weeks ago, he’s been here constantly.  He’s already come in four times this week.”

“So?” Kurt challenged.

“It’s _Tuesday_ , Kurt.  Face it, he’s got it bad.  He’s just waiting for the go-ahead from you.”

“Tana,” Kurt sighed, looking up from his book once more.  “You know it’s not that simple.  A witch with a mortal?  It’s…complicated.”

“Oh, save it, sister.  It’s not that difficult.  Others have done it, and you know it,” she said, punctuating her point with an arched eyebrow.

Kurt sighed heavily.  “But,” he hesitantly began, his voice small, “I can’t lie to him, Santana.  I won’t.”

“So don’t,” she replied with a nonchalant shrug.

Kurt rolled his eyes.  “What, I’m supposed to just tell him?  Like, ‘Hey, let’s get coffee, and by the way, I’m a witch’?”  He snorted derisively.

“Well no, you don’t do it like that, but you find a way and let him know.  He’ll be cool with it.”

“He’ll be cool with it?” he parroted, adding snarkliy, “How much catnip did you have today?”

Santana ignored him and leaned in, her arms crossed on the table in front of her.  “Kurt, he’s special.  I’ve seen it,” she said, her tone suddenly serious as she put special emphasis on the word “seen.”  Kurt knew what that meant.

“Seriously?” he whispered, awestruck.

Santana tapped her forehead with her index finger.  “My Mexican third eye is never wrong,” she responded.  Santana’s magic was different than Kurt’s.  She’d never been strong at spellcasting and the like, which was why she was letting Kurt take the lead with the research into reversing the curse against her.  However, she had the gift of the second sight, as some called it, and Kurt had learned over the years to trust her visions.

Shaken by Santana’s revelation, Kurt bit his lower lip pensively.  Taking a deep breath, he tried to return to an air of normalcy, looking back at his book and mumbling, “We’ll see.”  Santana simply smirked and began paging through her own volume, content to sit in the quiet with her friend until the curse overtook her once more.  Her smile grew as Kurt wordlessly slid his phone across the table toward her, never taking his eyes away from his reading.  With a wave of her hand over the device, music again filled the room.

_Every little thing she does is magic…_

xoxoxo

If you asked Kurt, he would vehemently deny that he’d given any extra thought to his outfit the next day or that he’d spent any extra time on his hair.  It was pure coincidence that he was having an exceedingly good hair day.  Also, he just happened to decide to wear his new gray pants that hugged his legs perfectly, and those pants just happened to go best with the royal blue button-down and silver scarf that accentuated his skintone and highlighted the color of his eyes. 

He arrived a little earlier than usual, pumpkin spice latte and medium drip in hand.  The shop had to be open on time, after all, and there was nothing untoward about the time he spent tidying up the place, regardless of the mocking looks he received from the black cat sitting in the armchair by the window.

The chiming of the little bell over the door had his heart literally skipping a beat, and he couldn’t help but smile broadly when Blaine strolled through the door at the exact minute that the shop was scheduled to open for the day.

“Good morning, Kurt.  Good morning, Santana,” Blaine called out cheerily, addressing both shopkeeper and shop resident in turn.

Kurt returned his greeting and walked around the front of the counter, Blaine’s coffee in hand. 

“You know, you’re going to spoil me,” Blaine said, winking at Kurt and taking the offered cup from him.  Kurt knew his cheeks were flushed and he glanced away to hide his smile.  “So, have you got anything new?” Blaine asked, blatantly overlooking Kurt’s bashfulness.

“Not since yesterday,” Kurt responded immediately, laughing lightly.

Blaine’s mouth dropped open.  “You did _not_ just quote _Beauty and the Beast_ to me.”  Kurt glanced upwards and shrugged, making Blaine laugh aloud.  “Oh, I knew I liked you,” Blaine mused, sipping his coffee and wandering past Kurt to look at a shelf of books.  Kurt felt the color rise further in his cheeks and chanced a glance at Santana, who flicked her tail once then hopped off the chair and walked away with her nose in the air.

The next half hour passed quickly, filled with friendly, easy conversation.  Blaine talked about his new job and settling into a new home, while Kurt told Blaine a few stories about his bookshop and gave him tips on various places in town.  It was a lovely way to spend a morning, and Kurt was glad that there were no other customers to interrupt them.  (If the sign in the door had somehow flipped from “Open” to “Closed” on its own after Blaine’s arrival, all the better.)

“Well, I guess I really should be going,” Blaine said, draining the last of his coffee and tossing it into the little trash can behind the counter. 

“Time to go improve some young minds, of course,” Kurt answered brightly, trying to mask the disappointment that always stirred in his chest when Blaine had to leave.

The next moment seemed to happen in slow motion and in high speed simultaneously.

Blaine retrieved his messenger bag from the counter and turned to bid a farewell to Kurt, who was standing near.  He seemed to lose his footing, however, stumbling forward into Kurt and throwing the other man off balance. 

Kurt was aware of several things at once:  his yell of a warning to Blaine to look out; a flash of black fur and a catlike screech; a wave of his own arm in the air as the world tipped sideways.  Finally, all motion stopped, and he was on the floor – well, not _directly_ on the floor.  There was, technically, a very handsome college professor between him and the floorboards, cushioning his fall and looking at him with those incredible honey-colored eyes.

“Oof,” Kurt spluttered as they landed.  “Oh, my gosh, Blaine,” Kurt gasped, his hands on Blaine’s shoulders and his voice laden with concern.  “Are you okay?  Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, Kurt.”  Blaine chuckled softly, sliding his hands from their place at Kurt’s sides to the center of his back, practically embracing him.  It seemed he was in no hurry to move, and Kurt had always heard that you shouldn’t move an injured person, so perhaps it was okay.  Blaine continued, “I’m a little embarrassed.  I’m not usually clumsy, but…” his voice trailed off into silence and his attention seemed to be drawn to something else.  His eyes flicked back and forth a few times from Kurt’s face to something above them, finally settling back on the cerulean eyes of the man still pressing him into the floor.

“Um, Kurt?” Blaine asked hesitantly.

“Oh, you are hurt, aren’t you?” Kurt said worriedly. 

“No, no I’m not hurt, but,” Blaine paused.  Kurt watched as thoughts and emotions flickered across Blaine’s face.  He felt one warm hand leave him, and immediately missed the contact.  He realized that Blaine’s now-absent hand was suddenly within view, pointing towards the ceiling.  “What’s that?” he inquired, looking over Kurt’s head once more.

With a feeling of dread, Kurt slowly twisted to roll partly off of Blaine and look up.  Upon seeing the object in question, he closed his eyes and let out a slow breath.  Turning back to Blaine, he answered, “That would be a very old, rather large unabridged dictionary.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Blaine replied more evenly, his hand returning to Kurt’s side and his thumb absentmindedly stroking a few times before going still.  “What I’d like to know is…why it is floating in the air above us?”

Kurt studied Blaine’s expression once more.  He saw surprise, curiosity, uncertainty, and even warmth, but no fear.  Interesting.  “Right.  Perhaps this is a conversation we should have in a more, um, upright position?”

Blaine nodded and released Kurt, allowing both men to rise.  Kurt straightened his clothing and self-consciously smoothed his hair, then ventured a glance at Blaine.  The professor was staring at him intently, but still showing no signs of fright or panic.  Blaine cleared his throat and nodded to the side.  Kurt turned and saw the dictionary still floating beside him.   He blushed lightly, then took the book in his hands and returned it to the shelf from which it had fallen when they bumped into it.

“Shall we sit?” Kurt asked, leading Blaine towards his long reading table at the back of the store.  Kurt took the closest chair, and thrilled a little inside when Blaine took the one next to it, turning to face Kurt and scooting a little closer.  Blaine gave him an encouraging look, but remained silent.

Kurt took one more deep breath, buying time as he tried to figure out how to explain himself.  He felt something brush against his leg, and looked down to find Santana staring at him, her meaning clear.  _“You find a way and let him know.”_   Her words rang in his head, giving him courage.  He also instantly understood why Blaine had tripped, and vowed to have words with his friend about her interference the next time he turned her human.

Steeling himself, he looked up and began.  “I need to tell you something, Blaine.  It isn’t easy for me to say.  I don’t really tell people this about myself, for obvious reasons of course, but you deserve to know.  I mean, it’s not like there are too many ways to explain what just happened, right?  I only hope that you will hear me out, and that it won’t ruin our friendship, because these past two weeks getting to know you have meant so much…”

“Kurt,” Blaine interrupted.  He reached out and placed a hand over Kurt’s, which were wringing together in his lap.  “You’re rambling.  You don’t have to be nervous.  I’m not going anywhere.”  He smiled sympathetically, tilting his head to the side.  “Now, why don’t you tell me what you have to tell me, okay?”

“I’m a witch,” Kurt blurted out, his own eyes widening at his bluntness.

“A witch?” Blaine asked, not moving from his position of leaning into Kurt or releasing his hand.

Kurt nodded.  “Yes.  I am a witch.  When we lost our balance and bumped the shelf, I saw the dictionary fall and was afraid it would harm you.  I used magic to suspend it in midair.”

Blaine looked steadily at Kurt for a long minute.  Kurt waited, barely breathing.  This was it.  He had revealed his secret to Blaine, whom he barely knew.  So much could go wrong.  Blaine could tell someone.  He could expose Kurt to the world, requiring him and Santana to flee.  He could laugh in Kurt’s face, not believing him at all.

Worst of all, he could leave and never come back.

Just when the panic was about to overtake Kurt, Blaine squeezed his hand gently, bringing him back to the situation at hand.  “Blaine?” he said timidly, begging for some indication of Blaine’s thoughts.

“Isn’t it warlock?”

Kurt blinked a few times.  “What?”

“Warlock,” Blaine said nonchalantly, sitting back in his chair.  “I thought male witches were called warlocks.”

Kurt answered reflexively, “Well, that’s kind of an area of contention, actually.  There are those who believe the term warlock has a distinctly negative connotation, referring specifically to one who has turned to dark magic.  A lot of us prefer the term witch, which is really what we are.  I mean, no one says that a witch is a female warlock, and nobody practices warlockcraft, or…wait a minute.  _That_ is your question?” Kurt said, his brain finally catching up with his mouth.

“Hmm?” Blaine replied, looking confused.

“Blaine.  I tell you I’m a witch – a real broom-riding, house-haunting, cauldron-stirring witch – and your first response is to argue _nomenclature_ with me?”

“Um, I’m…sorry?” Blaine said, forming the statement as if asking if that was what Kurt wanted to hear.  He then laughed lightly.  “Was that wrong?”

Kurt slumped back in his chair, dumbstruck.  “N-no, no.  Not wrong, just unexpected, I guess.  I thought you’d be more surprised or shocked.  I mean, it’s not like people in this world generally believe that witches exist or…”  He let the sentence die upon noticing Blaine biting his lower lip and coloring slightly.  “Blaine?”

Suddenly, the proverbial shoe was on the other foot, and Blaine was the one with something to reveal.  He cleared his throat nervously and shifted in his chair, then smiled a little guiltily.  “You’re, um, you’re actually not the first witch I’ve known, Kurt.”

Kurt’s mouth dropped open.  “What?” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah.  One of my best friends in high school was a witch.  I gave her a lift home one day after school when she had a cold.  She sneezed and lost control of her power, I guess, because the car just sort of instantly transported from the parking lot to her driveway about three miles away.”  Blaine paused and looked off to the side, grinning to himself at the memory.  His voice grew wistful as he continued, “Tina came out to me that day as a witch, and I came out to her as gay.  It was an interesting day for both of us.”

Kurt smiled fondly back at him, marveling at the fate or chance or circumstance that had brought this man into his life.  But he couldn’t get ahead of himself quite yet.  Kurt kept his nature a secret for a reason, and needed to make sure he – and Santana – remained safe.  “So, now that you know about me,” he stated, leaving the end of the sentence leadingly open.

“Kurt,” Blaine said gently, leaning forward again and clasping both of his hands, “I know you didn’t mean for me to find out this way, but I’m so glad that you told me.  I promise I’ll keep your confidence.  I have really liked spending time with you these past couple of weeks, and I’m hoping that you’ll keep allowing me to get to know you better.” 

“How are you real?” Kurt muttered, blushing immediately upon realizing what he’d just said. 

Blaine stood, pulling Kurt up by their joined hands and drawing him close.  Before Kurt knew what was happening, he found himself wrapped in a strong embrace, overwhelming him with a feeling of comfort and security.  The hug only lasted a few moments, and then Blaine released him. 

“You know,” he said, lacing his fingers with Kurt’s loosely, “I knew there was something special about you the first day I walked in here.  I guess that’s why I felt so drawn to you.”

Kurt paled.  “Blaine, I swear, I didn’t do anything to you.  I didn’t cast a spell to draw you here or make you feel a certain way.  You have to believe me,” he hurriedly explained.

“Kurt!  Kurt,” Blaine interjected, moving his hands up to Kurt’s shoulders.  “You misunderstand me.  I wasn’t implying that you used magic to influence me or my feelings.  I know it doesn’t work that way.  Trust me,” he said, his face turning serious, “if it was possible to make someone fall in love, you’d be looking at Mr. Tina Cohen-Chang right now.”

Kurt bit his lower lip, trying to keep a straight face, but losing the battle when Blaine snorted out a laugh of his own.  “I have to say, though, maybe I was wrong,” Blaine teased as their laughter waned, moving in so that their chests were touching ever so slightly.  Suddenly the teasing note was gone and he raised a hand to caress Kurt’s cheek.  “I don’t know about magic, but you do enchant me, Kurt Hummel.”  Kurt leaned into the touch, his eyes shining with wonder and his heart overflowing with emotion.  _“You smiled, and then the spell was cast,”_ Blaine sang softly.

Kurt couldn’t wait any longer.  He leaned forward, closing the last bit of space between them.  Their lips moved slowly and tenderly against one another in a kiss that was chaste and romantic, a little shy, but full of promise – just as all first kisses should be.  All too soon they parted, and Kurt watched as Blaine’s amber eyes fluttered open and a slow grin spread across his face.  “Had I known about that, I would have tripped into you weeks ago,” Blaine murmured, his voice quiet and a little deeper than it had been a moment earlier.

Kurt flushed and glanced down, laughing softly to himself.  He looked back up when Blaine placed a gentle finger beneath his chin to tip his head up again.  “Have dinner with me?” Blaine asked.

Kurt laced his fingers together at the back of Blaine’s neck.  “It’s only 10:45 in the morning, Blaine.  It’s a little early for dinner,” he answered teasingly.

Blaine leaned in and kissed the tip of Kurt’s nose.  “Feisty,” he whispered.  “Tonight.  I can pick you up here at seven?” he asked, then added, “Please?”

“Tonight’s Halloween, Blaine,” the witch responded.

“Oh,” Blaine replied flatly, leaning away a little and sounding disappointed.  “I forgot.  Is that a thing for you?  We could go another night.  I mean, I don’t want to…”

He was interrupted by Kurt’s lips on his.  “Actually,” Kurt whispered in his ear, “I think it’s perfect.”  The two smiled and kissed again more deeply, oblivious to the music that had begun to play from the cell phone sitting next to the black cat on the counter.

_If you decide someday to stop this little game that you are playin’_  
_I’m gonna tell you all the things my heart’s been a-dyin’ to be sayin’_  
_Just like a ghost, you’ve been a-hauntin’ my dreams_  
_So I’ll propose on Halloween_  
_Love is kinda crazy with a spooky little boy like you_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Song credits for lyrics used: “I Put a Spell on You” by Annie Lennox (it’s a much older song, but I like Annie’s version).  “That Old Black Magic” by Frank Sinatra.  “Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo” from Disney’s “Cinderella.”  “Every Little Thing She Does is Magic” by the Police.  “At Last” by Ella Fitzgerald.  “Spooky” by the Classics IV.  (Yes, I changed the word “girl” to “boy” in the last line – well, Santana did, actually.)
> 
> Fun fact:  Kurt’s line about being a “broom-riding, house-haunting, cauldron-stirring witch” is a quote from the pilot of the 1960’s TV show “Bewitched.” 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this sequel!  I am so grateful for all the wonderful comments I received on “Spellbound” and cannot thank you enough for encouraging me to continue the story.  Happy Haunting, all!  Be kind to yourselves and to one another.


End file.
